Holiday Hooligans
by Vengeful
Summary: Christmas 2016: Casey and Derek are together, the children are calm, life is peaceful, and...oh, who are we kidding? Christmas with Casey and Derek anything less than chaotic, and boarderline disasterous? Yeah, right. Now up: The Massacre of 2012
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Well, this was one of the more difficult stories for me to write. However, after much work, I have finished it. My person was, of course, Jeytonlover, and the prompt I chose was "Christmas, 10 years into the future." Enjoy!**

**Anyways, Merry (belated) holidays, and I hope that you all enjoy. Remember, leave a review; see endnotes for reason that you REALLY should review this one ;)**

**Emily**

**Disclaimer: I own none of the characters that you might recognize, nor do I own "The Heat is on in Saigon" from the wonderful musical _Miss Saigon_, or _Black Beauty_.**

* * *

If he heard one more Christmas song, he was going to kill somebody. Preferably the smiling old man that sat at the end of the line he was currently standing in, though he would settle for the man in front of him who kept yelling at some poor sap named "Jimmy, you asshole." 

No lie. That was the persons name.

Derek Venturi looked at his watch again. Ten minutes until the store closed. Ten more hellish minutes until he could honestly tell the kids that Santa was closed.

Oh, who in the hell was he kidding? Casey would murder him if they didn't get to sit on Santa's lap. As it was, she wasn't in the best of moods (Christmas tended to bring out the worst in her), and the fact that their four year old daughter had been doing the 'Chimney Sweep' dance, picked up from 'Daddy's friends' had not helped matters much. Apparently, it was okay when Haley was singing, "The heat is on in Saigon, the girls are hotter in Hell…" because that was 'cultured.' But, he staid quiet, knowing that he had to keep Casey happy, whatever it took, for God forbid there be a repeat of what he secretly called the 2012 massacre.

Okay, seriously, how long did it take to get through a line of kids? The story was closing very soon, and if his kids didn't get to see Santa, he was dead. Oh, he figured all the other kids in line would be heart broken, but really, that wasn't his problem. There'd be other Santa's. Besides, half the kids in the line looked too old to believe in Santa anyways. Better the kids learn soon that he didn't exist. .

As it was, he had already tried every trick imaginable to inch up in line, ranging from using his hockey prestige to promise tickets (the head elf turned out to be a fan of Derek's teams' biggest rivals), to flirting with the female elves (turns out the one he'd flirted with was the other elf's girlfriend). Sure, Casey would kill him if she learned about either of these attempts, but he was desperate at the time, and had figured that the girls would be so happy about Santa that they wouldn't tell mommy "how daddy got us to see Santa."

"Daddy, when will we see Santa?" demanded an impatient voice. Derek cringed slightly; he knew this tone. This was the "If I don't get what I want soon, there is going to be hell to pay" tone that his four-year-old daughter, Haley, often took up. As it was, he had already had to deal with handling a two and a half year old son for the past hour, which, when the kid was as curious as Josh, was a nightmare in and of itself. Add this to the fact that he had caught Haley repeatedly demonstrating the 'Chimney Sweep,' a dance that involved the thrusting of ones hips and several other suggestive moves, to another little girl, and he figured that if he lived through this, he was going to consider himself a hero.

Wait, was it, could it be…

"Due to popular demand, Santa will remain open for another half hour. Parents, don't forget that it costs just five dollars for a sitting, with a free picture thrown in! Thank you, and enjoy your Holidays. And remember…" Whatever the loudspeaker had left to say was lost amidst the flurry of voices that seemed to swell with the unexpected announcement. Derek let out a sigh of relief, one that seemed to join the multitude of others as parents relaxed a bit, and started to whip out cell phones to call their significant others and assure them that yes, they were going to get that damn picture with Santa.

Derek couldn't help but wonder what had made the store feel so kindly towards everyone as to keep Santa open. It was only later, when he was being charged for the picture, that he realized that they were no longer doing it for free.

"Da-ady!" Haley exclaimed, tugging hard on Derek's shirt. She looked up at him sternly, her arms crossed, her lips forming a pout. He could only imagine what she would be like when she was older. Already she was showing signs of being a miniature Casey Clone.

He couldn't quite decide whether this was a good thing or a bad thing.

He shifted Josh, who was thankfully asleep, in his arms. "Just a little longer, and then you'll see Santa."

"But I don't want to wait! I'm hungry," she pouted. Derek looked up, whispering a silent plea to whatever entity was up there to just help him make it through this.

It would seem that someone was listening, for suddenly, coming down the line, Derek saw another elf, holding in her arms a container of candy canes, and passing them out to the kids in the line.

If the girl had had alcohol, Derek would have fallen at his feet in worship. But candy canes were good enough. Haley loved them, and hopefully, that would keep her occupied just long enough for them to make it through this line.

"Merry Christmas, from all of us at Macy's!" the girl said, putting on a wide smile that Derek was sure was fake. But hey, who really cared if she was faking or not. She had candy canes, and Haley would be occupied for a few moments, and that was all that mattered.

When she finally reached them, her mouth dropped. "Oh, my god! Derek Venturi?"

Oh great. Just what he needed, a crazy fan. He put on a fake smile of his own, and nodded. The girl let out a squeal.

"Oh my god! It is! Do you remember me? We went to school together, and dated for a while," she exclaimed. Derek wondered where they managed to get this group of elves; if the actions of the elves he'd been seeing so far was an indication for how Santa would act, he was getting his kids out of there, picture or no picture.

But, still, he remembered his manners (Ha! he thought, see Casey, I can be nice!) "Of course I remember you. How could I forget?"

She giggled, evidently not realizing that he had purposely avoided saying her name. "So, what brings you down here? Nephew?" she asked, motioning to Josh.

It turned out that Derek didn't actually need to answer this, as Haley, who had been briefly occupied by a stand of shiny scarves, had realized suddenly that this elf was handing out candy canes, and she had not yet gotten one, something that she took great umbrage to. Impatiently, with a neon green scarf tied around her stomach, she stomped her feet and snorted, "Daddy!" Both Derek and the woman looked down at her. Pleased that she finally had their attention, she scraped her foot on the floor in an imitation of pawing, and falling back into character, snorted again.

"Daddy?" the girl repeated, her voice not so friendly anymore.

"Yup. This is Josh, and this is Haley," he said. While he certainly had no wish to start a conversation with this woman, he couldn't help but rub in the fact that he was a father and husband. He shifted Josh in his arms, making sure that the girl got a good look at his wedding ring.

Haley snorted loudly, and let out what was undoubtedly supposed to be a whinny. Derek shook his head. "I mean this is Ginger."

Haley bobbed her head, giving a softer "neigh" and trotting back over to the scarves.

The girl raised an eyebrow, looking at Derek in something akin to disgust. "Ginger?"

"My little sister let her watch _Black Beauty_. All she wants to do now is gallop around and pretend she's Ginger."

"Um, okay. Well, I have to finish this. It was nice seeing you Derek," she said quickly, evidently eager to get away from this whole situation.

"You too!" Derek called as she left. When she was gone, he snickered. "And that's why your Daddy is amazing," he said to Josh, smirking.

In his arms, Josh started to squirm. Well, it was nice while it lasted. He put his son down, praying that he wouldn't start a fit. He had had the foresight to get an extra candy cane, and he quickly handed it to Josh, whose face was in the process of growing somewhat red, a tell-tale sign of an impending tantrum.

So Josh would be sticky and gross when they got home, and Casey would probably murder him. Derek didn't really care at this point. All he really wanted to do was get out of this line.

Finally, after what Derek swore was a million years, they reached the front of the line. Derek sighed; they really had taken this politically correct thing too far, he thought as he watched a young (because it was just creepy for an older man to have kids on his lap), thin (because a fat man gave the wrong message to kids) Santa call out, "Ha-Ha-Ha" to a child (because 'Ho-Ho-Ho' was just plain wrong, and 'Lady of The Night, Lady of the Night' really didn't have the same ring to it.)

Oh well; Haley and Josh didn't know any better, as the change had taken place before they were born. They certainly seemed okay with it as they eagerly approached the man. Perhaps it was more accurate to say that Haley was okay with it; Josh was trailing behind, and look of apprehension upon his face.

"So, young lady, what would you like for Christmas?" the man asked as she settled herself on his lap, smiling widely.

"I want a pony, just like Aunt Marti."

Derek groaned; there she was with that damned pony thing again. He really was going to kill Marti. Marti, now seventeen, had taken up horseback riding when she was eight or nine. Sadly, it turned out that for her, riding was the equivalent of Derek's hockey, and she approached it with the same determination and love that her brother did his sport. Unfortunately, riding cost a lot more than hockey, something that George evidently did not think of when he signed Marti up for lessons. Now, nine years later, Marti was still riding, and Derek, being the fool he was, had made the mistake of allowing Marti to take Haley out to the barn to see her horse, Fabio. Marti had also allowed her niece to watch _Black Beauty_; Haley had been galloping around, alternating between being a horse and rider ever since.

Santa laughed at this, and pasted a big smile on his face as the camera flashed.

"Hey, sir, I need your twenty dollars," and elf said.

"Twenty dollars! Isn't this supposed to be free?" Derek exclaimed.

"Yeah, well, Santa's agreed to stay extra, and we have to pay for that. So, ten bucks per kid. Cough it up."

Well, these sure as hell weren't the jolly elves from Santa's workshop that he'd always heard about. But, nevertheless, he fished out his wallet, slapping twenty dollars in the mans hand. The elf, however, didn't move.

"What do you want now?" Derek asked, rather rudely. The elf raised his eyebrows, and Derek understood. He pulled out a quarter as a tip for the elf. The elf looked offended, but really, with the way he'd been so rude, he was lucky to be getting that much.

Haley had finally relinquished her spot on Santa's lap, and Derek picked up Josh, and placed him in the same place. Josh, however, was not so open to the idea of sitting on the lap of a stranger. He was silent, looking tearfully at his father.

"Come on, young man, don't you want something from Santa?"

The boy didn't budge. Santa shrugged. "All right, then. Say cheese!"

After Santa, Derek had to wait in line for fifteen minutes so that he could pay for the lime green scarf that Haley refused to take off. Finally, the kids were buckled in, and they were on their way home. Derek looked at the dashboard clock; he was nearly two hours later than he'd said. Casey was going to murder him.

* * *

"Where the hell have you been?" Casey demanded, her arms crossed, foot tapping impatiently on the carpeted floor. She must have been cooking, Derek thought, noticing the knife that she still held. 

"Getting the kids' picture with Santa. You wouldn't believe the lines. Who knew there were that many kids who still believed? Really, you'd think most of them would've stopped by now." Casey's Look of Anger did not falter. Meekly, Derek produced a pair of photographs. "I've got the picture," he offered.

"Derek, I told you to be home an hour and a half ago, at the very latest. You still haven't gotten the village up, or gotten any of the lights out of the attic yet. Oh, don't even think about arguing about the lights; we are not paying someone to do it. It's a Christmas tradition to do it yourself."

Derek wisely chose to stay quiet and nod. The anger on Casey's face faded a bit, turning now to worry.

"I'm sorry to be a nag," she said, although both knew this wasn't true, "but I just want things to be perfect this Christmas. I mean, our family is going to be here, and I still have so much shopping to do, and cleaning and cooking…" she trailed off, sniffing a bit as she did so. Derek took this as his cue to go over and give her a comforting hug.

As he held her, his hand gradually inched towards the large knife that she was clutching. However, she kept it well out of his reach, although with Casey, one never could tell if it was on purpose or accidental.

Casey was not normally a violent person. Neurotic, sometimes irrational, and prone to blowing things out of proportion, yes. Even now, at twenty-six, Casey had retained some of her youthful aspects, and while Derek found some of these to be amusing, and even charming in an 'I've loved you long enough to actually kind of understand you' way, there were still those little quirks that scared him a bit.

The Massacre of 2012 came unwittingly to mind, and Derek felt the familiar rise of terror in his breast.

Yeah, definitely one of those things Casey did that he wasn't fond of.

Granted, 345 days of the year, he loved and adored his wife. With the exception of the occasional fight, which really, considering their past, couldn't be helped, life got on pretty well. Too well, really, for it to last all year round. Derek figured this was why for twenty days of the year, seven of those falling around Thanksgiving, and the rest around Christmas, life with Casey became unbearable.

"Derek, where are the kids?" she asked after a minute, lifting her face from his shirt.

Oh, shit.

"They're…"

"DADDY!" wailed a voice from the garage. This was immediately followed by a wail from another child. Casey backed away, looking at Derek with something akin to horror.

"You left them in the garage?" she exclaimed, hurrying towards the door that led out into their large garage.

"I didn't leave them," he protested as she opened the door, revealing a very indignant Haley and a sobbing Josh. Haley stomped in, neighing angrily at her father, the neon scarf still secured around her stomach. Casey was now holding a inconsolable Josh. Derek had the good sense to look ashamed. However, spending the afternoon in a crowded store waiting to see Santa had obviously impaired his judgment, for, instead of apologizing, or better yet, staying quiet, Derek said, "you practically ambushed me! I didn't have a chance to bring them in."

Now, at any other time of the year, Casey might have rolled her eyes, or maybe called him and idiot. However, as it was mere days before Christmas, she wasn't quite so forgiving.

"What did you say?" she asked slowly.

It was then that Derek realized that that had been a very, very stupid thing to say. Oh, why had he said that? Why hadn't he remembered rule number one of having a wife: when she's in a bad mood, never say anything that so much as hints that she might be the reason for something bad.

She glared at him, silently walking away, presumably to put Josh down somewhere so that she could kill Derek. She came back a few moments later, still holding the knife in her hand.

"Now what were you saying about this being my fault?"

"I didn't actually say that. I said…"

"I know damn well what you said. You implied that I was the reason you left our children in the garage."

Normally, Derek got pleasant chills when he heard her refer to 'our children.' Now, when it was said in Super Scary I'm Holding a Killer Knife voice, he found that the chills he got weren't so pleasant.

"Case, calm down, You're stressed out right now, and probably tired, as you haven's slept in like, a week. Just, calm down, and put down the knife."

"Derek, I have been working my ass off none stop this week, trying to get everything ready for when our family arrives in two days. Two days! Forty-eight hours! Do you know how much I have to get done in that short amount of time?"

"Casey," he said, choosing his words carefully, "don't you think what you've done is enough? It doesn't have to be perfect. They know us both too well too actually think that any Venturi Christmas can be perfect."

"Great, now you're doubting my abilities to make my home a happy place to be for the holidays."

"I wasn't…"

"Just go away, Derek. I can't handle this right now."

He nodded; this was the typical Christmas mood in their house. Usually, she'd forgive him in a few hours, although he had the feeling that this was going to be an all-nighter.

Damn. And he'd been so looking forward to finding some way to make them both relax that night. He thought about saying as much, but, as he was currently 0 for 0, he decided to just stay quiet, for lest she get madder and remember the knife that she was still holding.

* * *

It turned out that Derek was correct in his prediction: the next morning, Casey normal again, or at least as normal as she could be (Derek loved the woman, but she was far from normal at any given time of the year). She smiled at him that morning as he stumbled into the kitchen. Judging it to be safe once more, he stole her coffee mug, taking a sip. 

"Der-ek!" she squealed in a voice reminiscent of their teenage years. He handed it back to her, kissing her on the cheek as he did so. They sat in companionable silence for a moment, each savoring the normalcy of the situation, for both knew that it wouldn't last past ten o'clock that morning.

"So," said Casey after a few minutes, "what did Haley and Josh ask for?"

"I thought we already got most of their gifts."

"We did. I'm just curious. They are my children too, you know."

He laughed; "yes, I think that was very clear yesterday when Haley kept giving me your exasperated look." He crossed his arms and stuck his lip out in an exaggerated pout. Casey smacked him lightly on the arm.

"I do not do that!"

"Yeah, you do. But I love you anyways."

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah, you better. Now, tell me what my children asked for."

"Well, Josh didn't ask for anything; he kind of just sat there. Think there's something wrong with him? He doesn't talk very much."

Casey rolled her eyes. "He's two, Derek."

"So? We're his parents."

She nodded at this, but then urged him to continue.

"So, Josh didn't really ask for anything, although he was awfully interested in Santa's outfit. Haley, however, asked for a pony, just like Aunt Marti's, except smaller."

"Not that again! Derek, she's been obsessed with horses for what, six months now. I thought she'd grow out of this phase by now." Casey shook her head in exasperation.

"I've already made myself a note to kill Marti for ever allowing our very impressionable young daughter to take a ride on that horse of hers."

"Maybe we should let her take lessons for a bit. Surely that would get it out of her system…"

"Casey, that's exactly how it started with Marti. Dad and Nora thought it would shut her up, and we all know how well that worked out. Did I tell you that Dad called me the other day, telling me that they were going to Florida for five or six weeks in February and March?"

Casey looked surprised. "Florida?"

"Big horse shows down in Florida, I guess. Point is, we do not want this happening with our daughter. I am perfectly happy with her just pretending to ride a horse. Or be a horse."

"I just wish she'd stop it. The other day, it was parents' day at her Tumble Gym class. Derek, she jumped around the whole time neighing. It was mortifying; all the other kids were doing what they were supposed to be doing, and then there was my daughter, galloping around."

Derek laughed, and Casey smacked him on the arm again, harder this time. "Der-ek! This isn't funny! I'm scared that there's something wrong. Maybe…"

"Casey, she is a four-year-old girl. Just because all the robots you hang out with have perfectly robotic children, we have a very expressive, very lively little girl. Be proud of it. Besides," he added, "you're her mother. She's bound to be quite adept at making a fool of herself."

Casey let out a noise of protest at this, and Derek snickered.

"Seriously, though, just relax, Case."

There was once again silence. As they sat there, Derek couldn't help but think that things were pretty damn good. Life was quiet, good, normal…"

"Oh, my gosh! Look at the time! Derek, according to my schedule we needed to start working ten minutes ago, and that was based off the assumption that you'd have the lights down by now! Get up! You have to get all the lights up. Oh, why wasn't I paying more attention…" she continued muttering to herself. From the living room, there was a crash. A minute later, a very sheepish looking Haley came into the kitchen. Derek and Casey looked at each other, Casey in dismay, Derek in amusement.

"Ginger had an accident," Haley said.

"Derek…"

"I'm going, I'm going."

All right, so not normal. But then again, when had they ever been normal?

"Derek!"

He hurried towards the broken vase; he had to be fast, for lest there be a repeat of the Massacre of 2012.

As he scooped up the pieces, Haley jumped up on his back.

"Daddy, I'm a rider!" she yelled, kicking his sides with her stubby legs. Well, he figured, a little lap around couldn't hurt. However, as he started to 'trot,' he happened to look up only to see his wife standing there, the porcelain figurines from her village in hand.

She looked positively murderous.

Derek put down Haley, who had enough knowledge of "Mommy's scary moods" to run away, and he gave her what he hoped was an innocent grin.

She glared.

He gulped.

"I was just, uh, going to go up to the attic and grab the lights," he said. She nodded, but didn't move; he took it as a sign to go towards said attic. "I love you," he called, in an attempt to make peace. She continued her unnerving glare, which spoke of a promise to slaughter him if he didn't move his ass quickly. And she meant it, too.

Well, 345 days of peace (or, rather, non-violent semi-peace, as it was) out of the year wasn't so bad.

Provided he survived the other twenty days.

* * *

**A/N: First of all, first person to say that Fabio is a stupid name for a horse dies; Fabio is the name of my horse. I swore that I wouldn't revert back to writing about my own horsy life, but obviously, I failed miserable here. Oh well. Second, I don't know how small children talk. The only kid I've known recently who is under six, well, suffice to say she doesn't really give kids a good name. So, I tried desperately to write Haley like a regular four-year-old. I don't know how well I did; feel free to correct me on the character. Same goes for Josh.**

**Now, for the fun part (or, for all who are currently wincing in agony over the story, 'oh shit, there's more of this crap?) Yes…possibly another chapter, in which The Massacre of 2012 is explained out. But only if I get some requests, in reviews.**

**So, review!**

**Emily**


	2. The Massacre of 2012

**A/N: I told you I'd get it up by the end of the month! I can't really say that it's any good, exactly. You all completely overwhelmed me with your reviews! Seriously, that's a lot to try and live up too! I just hope I didn't give false hope!**

**Thank you so much for all of your reviews. You have no idea how much it means to me to hear what you all thought. I hope to hear from you again, even if it is to say how awful this was. That said, as it is far too late, and I am quickly succumbing to the influence of sleeping pills, I'll leave it at that.**

**Enjoy!**

**Emily**

**Disclaimer: What do I own? Absolutely nothing! I also do not own _Hey Mr. Producer!_**

* * *

In hindsight, it was possible that he held some of the blame for what happened that cold and dreary December day of 2012. Perhaps, had he cared to consider the incident more thoroughly, he would have found it to be not so irrational, not so terrifying as his recollections held it to be. He might have even found it to be amusing years later. There was hope yet that such would occur, but, five years later, the memory would still hit him full force, and he would shudder, and he would mutter a silent prayer of thanks that he was still alive and well.

It was a little overdramatic, really, but just as she didn't realize how terrible she had been, he didn't realize the scope of his overreactions.

Derek Venturi had always prided himself upon being a manly man. He didn't scream at bugs, snakes, and with the exception of certain rodents, generally laughed in the face of creepy creatures. He always considered Casey to be a girly girl. With the exception of certain rodents, he expected her to jump into his very manly arms at the sight of a creepy little animal, and to act weak.

Mind you, this idea was often ruminated up whilst under the influence of some alcohol, or sickness, which accounted for the delusional aspect of it all.

Derek actually seemed to think a lot of stupid things while under the influence of some alcoholic beverage.

Like the Massacre of 2012, a day that, in his mind, would live in infamy.

The twentieth of December 2012 was a cold and miserable day, a reflection, undoubtedly, of the horror that was soon to come.

"Derek! You force me to come with you to this damn party, and now, we're running late!"

Derek Venturi rolled his eyes as the voice rang through the home. "Pregnant, pregnancy hormones," he muttered under his breath, repeating the words in a mantra. He wondered how much longer these things would last. It was their first Christmas together as a married couple, and they couldn't even have a normal one, with a happy, loving Casey and a very satisfied (and loving) Derek. No, because there was a third party involved here. A small he/she (Casey had bluntly refused to hear what she was having) that was wreaking havoc on Casey.

Now, it wasn't the fact that the baby had started to change Casey's body. At five months, she was showing, yes, but Derek still thought she looked damned good. Of course, he knew that he was supposed to think that she looked sexier than ever pregnant, but he just couldn't bring himself to really think that. He wondered idly if he was an awful person for thinking that. He eventually decided that the answer to that question was yes. Ah well, he figured, nothing he could really do about that.

"Der-ek!" she shouted again. He hurried up; she wasn't happy about going to this party in the first place. The party in question was a holiday party being thrown by one of the guys on his team. He had told Casey that other wives were going to be there. What he had failed to mention was that all the guys with families, kids and the like, were going to be skipping, to spend some family time together. They had said something about going previous years, and how it was always the same. Then, Derek could have sworn some of the younger guys that were going had snickered, and the older ones that weren't had looked at Derek in sympathy.

Okay, so Derek's agreeing to go might possibly have had something to do with the fact that they had just won a game, and were celebrating in the best way a man knows how: with copious amounts of alcohol, and without any wives.

This little fact Derek had wisely kept from his wife.

"All right, Casey, I'm comin'," he yelled down, reaching for his heavy leather jacket and shrugging it on. He went down to find his wife glaring at him, lovely mouth pursed in agitation, her hands on her hips in a posture that he knew and hated.

"Can we go now?" was all she said, although her tone spoke volumes about her present state of mind.

"Of course, babe," he said, drawing her close to him and pecking her on the lips, hoping that his actions would calm her somewhat. Evidently, they didn't, as she still had the same scowl on her face. Derek sighed; he'd figured it was worth a try.

"Derek, are you sure you really need me to go? It's cold, I'm tired, and your child is not staying still," she whined as they walked out of the home. Derek paused for a moment, considering what she said. If not for what she said next, he might have let her stay. However, when she said, "Sheldon could watch out for me; he said something about getting that _Hey Mr. Producer! _DVD recording that I've been wanting to see."

"No." If she thought he was going to leave her alone with Sheldon Schlepper, she was horribly mistaken. Derek was pretty sure that Schlepper was still in love with Casey, and, while Derek couldn't really blame the guy for feeling that way, he sure as hell wasn't going to aggravate those feelings.

Casey, as it was, let out a sigh of frustration, but allowed her husband to open the car door, reluctantly buckling herself in. As the car started, Derek's customary rock station came on. Immediately, Casey switched it to a local classical station. Derek started to protest, but one look from his wife efficiently shut him up.

"Derek," she whined, "it's not too late to drop me off at Sheldon's. I've really been wanting to see that recording…"

"We can rent it."

"But I want to see it with somebody."

Derek sighed. "Fine, if you come to this party, I will sit through your video of people singing and dancing to musicals. All right?" He wouldn't really, of course, but Casey seemed to buy it, and for the remainder of the ride, seemed somewhat pleasant and happy.

Derek should have known it was a bad idea the moment they entered the house. In fact, really, the moment he pulled onto the curb, nestling himself in between two flashy cars, one of which had suspiciously steamy windows, the other some sort of smoke billowing out, he should have known that he should get as far away as possible. Casey of course noticed this, and as fast as it came, her good mood disappeared, and once again, she scowled.

There were far more people than he had expected, and far less clothing on the women. Were he to guess, he'd say it was something more akin to the parties he'd attended in high school than a gathering of professional athletes. Yet, in Derek, as with all men, there is that primitive side that enjoys getting completely drunk, being fawned over by women who are a hop skip and a jump away from being whores, and generally acting like a group of mindless morons.

When the couple walked in, Derek was immediately bombarded with offers of various types of alcohol, and various types of amusement, offered by some dubious looking women.

"Derek," Casey called above the noise, "I don't think I want to be here at all." She was worried now; this was not something that looked like the good clean fun Derek had described before.

"Case, I'm sure there's a good explanation for all of this," he answered, stealing a glass of something off of a platter. Before he could drown the glass, a small hand grabbed his arm.

"Derek, if you think for one minute that I am going to allow you to get drunk while I'm stuck here sober, you have another thing coming," she hissed. He shrugged, but put down the glass, looking around for the host (if one could apply such a name to the guy hosting the party).

"Venturi and Mrs. Venturi," a man slurred, stumbling up to them, a scantily clad woman draped around him in a way eerily similar to ornaments on a tree.

"It's good to see you Mr. Jomes," Casey said wearily, reluctantly offering him her hand. Laughing, he leaned down, presumably attempting to kiss her hand, but in truth, just slobbering all over it.

"'s good to see you, sweetie," the man said, laughing. Turning to Derek, he laughed. "Brought the wife, didcha? 'S all good, though. She can talk wi' the other ladies."

Laughing again, the man moved away. Casey looked at Derek, her eyes eerily darkened.

"See babe? He said there are other ladies," Derek said, trying to lure his wife into a better mood. Truth be told, he was a bit excited about this party. Not about the women that were present, of course. Despite all of her many quirks, he loved Casey, and he'd be damned if he ruined that for a half drunk slut. No, it was the unbridled manliness of it all that reminded him of his life in high school. He felt a pang of remembrance overwhelm him, and he sighed.

"Derek, if by 'other ladies,' he means the type that he had hanging all over him, I think I'll pass," Casey said, her arms now crossed in a position Derek recognized as "I'm not pleased, nor am I amused."

"Case, let's just stay for half an hour. I promise, if it doesn't get better, we'll leave. But we need to stay just a little bit. It would be rude if we didn't. Besides," he added with a smile, "you said that the minimum one needed to stay at a party was one hour."

"When did I say that?"

"At Emily's wine and cheese party a few months back. You know, that incredibly boring one, where the highlight of the night was when Schlepper got slightly wasted and broke into _Les Miserables_."

"Oh yeah. And that wasn't a boring party! It was very nice, actually. And Sheldon was not wasted. He was simply…happy."

"Yes, because when straight men are happy, they sing _Les Miserables_. Although come to think of it, Schlepper…"

"Derek," Casey warned. Derek figured that this would be a good time to maneuver his way through the crowd and away from his wife.

When Derek had told Casey he wouldn't drink, he hadn't actually been lying. Much. He had only intended on drinking one or two beers. However, it was proper etiquette to try what the host offered you, wasn't it? So, when the host offered him some strange drink, would it not have been rude to refuse it? Certainly, he couldn't do so.

Never mind the fact that the host was probably too drunk to really take offence. That was his excuse for getting drunk, and hell if he wasn't going to defend it to the grave.

Sadly, the host wanted him to try lots of things. As a result, when Casey found her husband, he wasn't as steady as she would have liked.

It happened that he was with a group of guys when she came over. One of the guys nudged Derek, saying, "Hey, I'd like to get a piece of that, man."

"Who wouldn't?" Derek said back. He whistled at her. "Hey baby," he leered, looking at the other guys who were looking on in silent encouragement. "Want t' find some room, babe," he finished. The guys cheered. Casey glared.

"Derek…"

"Oh, come here babe. You know how that dress makes me feel," Derek said.

"Derek, stop it," she warned.

Instead of stopping it, as a smart man would, Derek did something else, something that was incredibly stupid, as he would later realize.

Derek leaned over and smacked her lightly on the rear, nodding and winking at his buddies as he did so.

"Derek, I'm leaving," Casey said, her voice icy. She came over to him and fished the keys from his pocket.

"Wait! We only have one car," he exclaimed, trying unsuccessfully to grab the keys from her.

"I don't care."

"Casey, wait!" He tried to go after her, stumbling a few times as he got up. However, she quickly slid through the crowd. Derek had to admire her grace in slipping around every body.

Pregnant women could be dexterous. Who knew?

He finally caught up to her at the door. "Come on, Casey, just a minute, and I'll come with you. I just have to say goodbye…"

This was an extraordinarily stupid thing to say, as it obviously implied that he was not coming right away, and that he found saying goodbye to drunks who didn't know their heads from their asses more important than comforting his wife. Or so Casey thought as she stormed out the door, turned on the car, and took off into the cold night, leaving Derek standing helplessly behind.

Sighing, he turned around, fully intending on immediately saying goodbye and calling a cab. As it turned out, saying goodbye took a lot longer when everyone else was drunk, and you yourself are semi drunk. Finally, after an hour and a half, he arrived home to find his precious car parked haphazardly in the driveway, lights still on.

He quickly found the car unlocked, and turned off his lights, before walking into the garage, and entering his house. Once inside, he could not see his wife. Upstairs, however, he heard pounding.

Now, the way Derek figured it, there were levels of Casey Anger. There was the

"Der-ek!" Level, which was the mildest and most common. This usually occurred when Derek did something stupid and acted like he didn't care. He got this an average of two times a week.

The second level was the "Frowny" level (as Derek described it). Here, she would get all silent and moody, and start stomping around the house. This was slightly more severe, lasting a bit longer. However, she would soon forgive him within an hour or two.

Third, and far less common, was the "Grrrr" level. This was a variation of the "Frowny" level, but to a much greater extent. She would look at him as though she wanted to kill him, would stomp around even harder, growling at anything that crossed her path, and clenching her fists a lot in anger. At this level, Derek found it wise to keep clear of her, and would do so for sever hours, as it often lasted a good while.

The final stage was what Derek termed the "GET OUT!" level. This level actually had several stages. It would start with the "Grrr" level, stage one, often manifesting itself through the silent treatment. However, it would suddenly morph into the murderous stage. In this stage, Casey would start to scream at Derek, usually using the phrases "GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!" and "I WANT A DIVORCE!" several times. She never meant it, Derek now knew, but the first time this had happened, it had scared the shit out of him. It still did, too. This could last anywhere from a few hours to a few days. In their married life, it had happened about three times, each of which the cause was Derek's behavior.

As Derek heard her thumping around upstairs, he knew instinctively that she was in the "GET OUT" level of anger. With a deep breath, he braved the climb upstairs. He didn't get far, however, as Casey suddenly appeared, standing at the top, looking down at him, her arms crossed and her eyes blazing.

"Get. Out. Of. My. House." She said this slowly, pronouncing every word slowly and carefully.

"Casey, I…"

"You what? You got 'caught up?' You had to finish 'saying goodbye?'"

"I…I…"

"Damn it, Derek, what were you thinking? How could you get drunk, and leave me to those…animals?"

"Hey," he weakly protested. She chose to ignore him.

"I mean, Derek, I could have been assaulted, or hurt, or, or raped by those brutes! They were all so drunk! And if I had, you wouldn't have been able to help me because you were too busy getting drunk on your own! You wouldn't even know what happened…"

"Casey, I think you're being a little over dramatic here. I doubt that you were in danger of being raped."

This was, apparently, the wrong thing to say.

"Oh really, now. And why is that? Is it because I'm pregnant and ugly? Huh, Derek? Am I not pretty enough for all your drunken little friends? Well, I'll have you know that I will NOT be treated this way! There were plenty of men looking at me, pregnant or not. I'm sorry that you think I'm a ugly old maid…"

"Case, that's not what I meant!" She was coming down the stairs, slowly advancing towards him. Now he was officially terrified.

"Well, then, what did you mean? I'd really like to know."

"I, uh, I…"

"What, Derek, whore got your tongue?"

"Casey, you are being ridiculous! I love you, and you were the hottest thing at the party! I only mean that there were girls who were willing and…oh, shit…"

By the landing, there was a large table, upon which sat Casey's porcelein Christmas village. It consisted of a group of old fashioned small town buildings, and a large number of little figures that depicted people going about their lives, merrily and aware of the impending Christmas. The poor village, ignorant as it was to the outside world, and all that populated the wicked world around them, they never saw it coming, How could they, these innocents, collected one by one, living their lives in a box save for a few weeks every year. How could they know?

Well, they certainly knew after that night,

There were two things that Derek learned about Casey that he never expected that night: one, Casey was a good shot, and two, Casey had a mean throw.

With a frustrated scream, she picked up a townsperson, and hurled it with deadly accuracy at Derek's head. He ducked, barely avoiding the object. But Casey was not done. The townspeople hovered in fear as a large hand picked them up randomly, throwing it with all her might at her cowering husband.

"Take THAT, you sonofabitch!" There went the little old man holding a fish. "And that, you good for nothing…" Goodbye, two old ladies linking arms. One by one, the citizens of the picturesque little village died, colliding with walls, the floor, or, in some cases, Derek's body and head.

When it was all over, ten little townspeople had fallen victim to Casey's rage. The victims ranged from a young boy, waiting under a lamppost to an old married couple, their last moments forever frozen in peaceful companionship.

Casey, now sufficiently calmer, looked at the scene in horror.

"Oh, God!" she exclaimed, no longer calm. She knelt down, picking up shattered pieces of her precious village people, her lip quivering. Quickly, Derek knelt down beside her, ever careful not to let the blood from the cuts on his head drip on his wife.

"Derek, what did I do? Oh, god…" she cried, leaning into her husband. "I don't know what happened! I just got so angry at you, and they were there, and…"

It suddenly occurred to Derek that she wasn't speaking about the fact that she might very possibly have given him a concussion. No, she was crying over the little figurines. He thought about saying something, but, as she was now curled up in his arms, holding onto him, he figured there were certain things best left unsaid.

"I know, babe, I know," he murmured.

"Why do you put up with me," she asked, sniffling a bit.

Thinking it safe to finally crack a joke, he took a risk: "few too many collisions with a hockey puck," he said. She laughed, much to his relief. He hated to see Casey like this: despite her irrationality as a teenager, she had grown into a wonderful woman, and to see her regress into her teenaged moods scared him. He was perpetually afraid that one day, she wouldn't snap out of it. When that happened, he'd be screwed: teenage!mooded Casey hated Derek of any age.

Well, never mind that, he thought. What mattered now was that he actually felt really bad (yet another surprise for that night!) about everything.

The next morning, Casey seemed back to normal, chattering away as normal, talking about where she could find some more townspeople, and, much to Derek's dismay, mentioning that Sheldon was going to drop that DVD by their house, so they could watch it that night.

Derek felt bad about the night before, but not bad enough to watch that thing.

He didn't say this. It was, he figured, probably a good idea. It was also a good idea, he thought, not to put up that sign in front of the house that he had made up the night before, after the Massacre.

Still, now, in the depths of his closet, there now sits a sign that still holds true to this day:

Massacre of 2012: An event that will live in infamy.

**A/N: I hope you enjoyed this! As for Casey's characterization, well, as me about it in a review if you want to comment on it, all right? That of course means that I would like a review. Yeah, I am shameless. I'm fully aware of this.**

**Emily**

**A QUICK NOTE TO READER OF _TO HAVE AND TO HOLD_:**

**I apologize for the lack of review. Sadly, the story is complicated to write, and it does take a back seat to school and riding. There should be a new chapter up in the next two weeks. If not, chances are, it might be another month, as I will be away every weekend starting in two weekends. Not to mention a lot of schoolwork. I apologize for the wait, I really do.**


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